


Man's Best Friend

by Novachester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 03:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3880678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novachester/pseuds/Novachester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deancas "every time I walk my dog you go crazy over him, but you never say hello to me. It's been a week now and I'm getting pissed" AU?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man's Best Friend

Dean’s honestly not entirely sure how he ended up owning a dog. All he knows is one day he was walking home from work and out of the corner of his eye, he saw something wet, furry and shivering against the chilly rain of late October, and while the absolute _last_ thing in the world Dean needed was a pet to clean up after, he knew what it was like to be cold, hungry and alone.  
  
And that is how one could say Dean ended up with a dog that needs too many walks and seems to be in perpetual need of a bath, no matter how many products Dean scrubs the silly beast with.  
  
Speaking of walks, that is exactly what has Dean up at precisely 7:30AM, fully dressed and lagging behind as Kilmister (What? He needed a decent name, and screw you, Motorhead will _always_ be cool.) drags him, fluffy tail wagging furiously as the he thoroughly sniffs and investigates the exact same path they walk every single day.  
  
Dean has no idea how an animal can be so damn excited every second of the day, but even he has to admit it’s kind of endearing to come home from work and always know that at least someone will be happy to see him. Even if that someone sheds their Godforsaken hair all over Dean’s bed.  
  
_Oh,_ Dean thinks, licking his lips reflexively. There’s a man sitting, as he always is, at the patio of the small coffee shop Dean passes on each walk. Typically Dean sees him in a suit, a tan trench coat draped over the back of his chair, but today is a Saturday and he’s dressed much more casually, a fitted tee-shirt and faded out jeans that _might_ be older than Dean, but fit the man like some kind of obscene dream.  
  
It seems the stranger, like Dean, is a creature of habit and alarmingly precise timing, as the time Dean sees him never alters.  
  
Dean’s snapped out of his musings when he realizes he’s no longer 20 feet from the man, but instead staring directly down at the top of his head as the guy coos and pets Dean’s dog. It’s been like this for a week; ever since Dean switched the walks from 8:30 to 7:30, which is apparently when this guy enjoys his coffee each morning. The first time the two met, that is Kilmister and this stranger, it was like love at first sight, and now Dean has no chance of passing before the two get their love fest in.  
  
Dean doesn’t think he’s even made _eye contact_ with this guy yet. He just stands there like he doesn’t exist, except to be sure that Kilmister is properly walked and received by his favored human, who Dean’s definitely _not_ been crushing on all week.  
  
“Yes, hello, hello, it’s good to see you, too,” the man says. It sounds like he’s smilling, but Dean can’t tell with the way his dog is licking a slobbery mess all over the man’s face. “Okay, okay, yes, thank you, that’s nice,” he says with something of a laugh, pulling back. “Thank you, Kilmister.”  
  
Something in Dean’s brain snaps.  
  
“How the hell do you know his _name?_ “ He asks. He doesn’t mean it to sound anywhere near as harsh as it does, but the fact catches Dean so off guard that he’s ready to topple over. Dean hasn’t gotten so much as a _hello_ from the dude who’s been fussing very his dog for the last week, and yet he knows the dogs name. Not a single word exchanged between them, and Dean’s realizing now just how irritated he actually is by this fact… He’s just not sure why.  
  
Bright blue eyes snap up to Dean’s and his breath catches. There’s a tense moment of silence between them during which Dean finds himself studying the guy, taking note of the strong line of his jaw and the stubble that shadows it, framing full pink lips that move with–  
  
_Shit!_ Dean thinks, eyes snapping back up to where they should be, meeting those of the strangers. Dean realizes belatedly that the man had been talking, though not a single word of it managed to register. “What?” Dean blurts daftly, and he can feel the flush of embarrassment crawling up his neck.  
  
“He’s wearing a name tag,” the stranger says with a quirked brow, holding the metal tag up from Kilmister’s collar. The flush deepens all the way up Dean’s face as he drops a soft _oh_.  
  
“He’s very friendly, and handsome,” the man says, ruffling Kilmister’s fur, scratching his ears in what seems to be exactly the right way. Dean tries not to be fixated on the curl of the mans hands, as he has in days prior.  
  
“Me too,” Dean says without thought, which quickly catches up to him. “Friendly, I mean, I’m not an ass, I just, I forgot about the– I see you a lot, we see you, and we– I, not the dog, I don’t know you or even your name but you know the name of my dog and I didn’t–”  
  
“Cas,” the man, Cas, interrupts. Dean goes blank.  
  
“Castiel, technically, but most call me Cas,” he says, and Dean thinks he sees a hint of a smile hidden in the curve of his mouth and the soft crinkles around his obnoxiously bright blue eyes.  
  
“Dean,” Dean says, a flustered mess. Christ, even his _dog_ is looking at him like he’s an idiot. “Hi, I’m Dean, and my dog really likes you.”  
  
Castiel chuckles, standing up from his seat.  “Hello, Dean. I like your dog, too,” He says. His voice is low and warm and Dean feels it curl up in his ears like an old friend he didn’t know he had. “Do you have much longer to walk?”  
  
Dean blinks. “Uh, yeah. Takes a while to wear him out, probably another–” he stops when he sees Castiel begin to gather his things, tugging on his coat and tucking his book away into his bag.  
  
“Would you mind if I joined you, then? We apparently have a week’s worth of conversation to catch up on,” he says, sweet and rough and perfect for making Dean’s knees feel like tennis balls wobbling on stilts.  
  
“Yeah, yes, or no, yeah, I don’t mind,” Dean babbles senselessly. He manages to laugh this time, despite the sweat at the back of his neck and the flutter of butterflies in his stomach. “I swear I can hold up a real conversation. I’m not always this stupid.”  
  
“I don’t think you’re stupid, Dean. Not at all,” Castiel says. Dean doesn’t know how he can speak with such certainty when the two of them know practically nothing about each other, but it warms Dean straight to his core regardless and has him smiling widely.  
  
The two of them begin walking and Kilmister seems overjoyed, constantly looking back at the two of them as he tugs the leash and practically frolics the rest of the way. Dean talks about himself, about his job as an engineer and how life hasn’t always been this good, but he’s glad it is now. He learns that Cas is a physical therapist and, much to Dean’s surprise, a military veteran.  
  
“My dad was a marine,” Dean tells him. “He was, uh… A lot different,” Dean says, not exactly sure how to tell Cas that Dean hadn’t expected that from him at all.  
  
“I had thought for a long time that I knew my path, but it would seem life had other plans for me,” Castiel explains, something that Dean understands perfectly.  
  
Kilmister stops suddenly and whines loudly from between them, looking up at them with an anxious fidget, and it’s then that Dean realizes he’s walked right passed their apartment. “Oops,” he says, realizing that they’ve been walking considerably longer than their usual forty-five minutes, and it’s time for Kilmister’s food.  
  
The two of them automatically reach down to soothe the dog, only to successfully clock their heads against one another in a move that’s so cliche that Dean fully expects sound effects and an audience laugh track to follow it up, but instead there’s only the sound of the two of them as they both laugh, hands on their heads at the point of impact and eyes on each other.  
  
“Did I hit you hard enough to knock out the memory of how badly I introduced myself?” Dean asks, to which Castiel shakes his head.  
  
“No, Dean, I think that’s a memory I’ll keep for a long time to come. However, I do seem to have forgotten your number,” Castiel responds, hand falling away from his head and dipping instead into his pocket, fishing out his phone.  
  
“Uh, I don’t think I–Oh,” Dean says, understanding kicking in as Cas shoots him a playful little smile. Dean grins and digs his own phone out of his pocket. “Looks like I forgot yours, too.”  
  
“Let’s remedy that,” Castiel says.  
  
Their first date is three days later. Dean brings Kilmister and Cas brings wine. six weeks later they’re officially on “boyfriend” terms, and six months later is when Cas first tells Dean that he loves him, the two of them tucked together into bed with Kilmister at their feet.  
  
Never in his life did Dean think picking up a stray off the streets would someday lead him to the man who would change his life forever, hey, he’s been wrong before.  
  
And hell, is he ever glad for that.


End file.
